Harry Potter and the Very Confused Aftermath
by lnbear2004
Summary: Postwar setting in wizard London, Harry find himself with a new mysterious foe, and in the aftermath of the battle he also finds himself with some new roomates and possibly a new love?SLASH, but NOT RH as it seems for a little while. Rating for violence,
1. Pulse

Chapter 1 Pulse

It was over. The war was over. Everything had finally turned out all right. Almost like Dumbledore had said it would… almost like that. Harry sighed in relief. He felt hot liquid dripping down the back of his leg. He knew it was blood from some sort of injury but he didn't bother using the willpower that was needed to care or feel pain. A black sand partially enveloped him as he lay on the ground. The sand burned hot as fire but Harry couldn't have been less responsive to it. The sand was all that remained of Voldemort. It would be taken to the ministry later for testing… If there still was a ministry. Harry wasn't sure.

He wouldn't have even minded dying at this point so being sure of anything was much beyond him. Voldemort was dead. Harry was alive. That was all that mattered. Harry barely cared that he hadn't owned the climactic moment. He didn't care that he would no longer be known in history books as he had previously anticipated but as a fluke who survived a famous curse. He didn't care that his glory had been stolen. At least he was still breathing.

Harry sat up on his elbows to survey the circum stances. Crumpled black robes lay scattered him. The remains of Death Eaters, he supposed. He could spot Hestia Jones, a member of the order who had once been part of an advanced guard transporting him to Grimmald Place, sprawled out on the floor, eyes still screaming with the last pains of a Cruciatus Curse. Next to her lay most of Deglus Diggle, Harry knew it was he by the violet top hat supported only by his neck.

Harry looked past these two tragedies. He had heard a soft sound of sobbing and he now realized who it was. Ginny was crying over what a dead body on the floor. She was kneeling over it and her tears were falling on its chest. Harry squinted and recognized Neville as the body. Harry was glad someone was crying over Neville. If Harry was dead, he would want someone to cry over him. Ginny turned her head slightly and her hair obscured Harry's view. Harry was grateful for that. He didn't want to see anymore dead friends.

Harry twisted to his right. He saw Fred Weasly carrying out Padma Patil by means of a good hover charm. Padma was moaning a bit and her head drooped to the right side, resting on her shoulder. Suddenly Harry was very nervous. He had not yet caught sight of Ron or Hermione. He needed to find Ron immediately and make sure he was all right.

Harry twisted once more and saw a shock of red hair. He was overjoyed at the sight of it. He groped blindly in the air, trying to find some support. Stand he did, and falling down he did moments later. He resolved to crawl using his uninjured arm and leg only, down low on the floor, army style.

It took awhile but eventually he managed to reach Ron. He lay down beside him and checked Ron's wrist for a pulse. He pressed hard and couldn't feel anything. Deciding that he was doing it wrong, he pressed Ron's wrist to his ear in order to listen intently. In due time, Harry heard a soft "Lub dup, lub dup." He exhaled in relief.

Black, Gray and Purple enveloped the world of Harry Potter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 Kneelers, thinkers, and criers **

Ginny was crying. She had been for some time. Her hero had died. The one boy she had always known would be strong enough to defeat the Dark Lord, that man was dead.

'Ginny,' Ginny thought to herself, 'don't fool yourself. You always thought Harry Potter would save the world, not Neville Longbottom. You just want him because you like the limelight.'

'Not true!' Ginny reasoned with herself, ' Harry dumped me. He said he couldn't have a girlfriend, a weakness, and still be a hero. So what if I fell in love with someone else? It happens! Besides, Neville is – was – the sweetest boy I ever knew.'

'Well, Harry did dump me, but I think he thought we would get back together sometime…' Ginny argued.

'C'mon, he spent almost a month avoiding you at the burrow; all he ever wanted to do was plot with Ron. "Lets find the next Horcrux. Let's be heroes. I'm always saving your asses so you owe me. Blah." Is all he ever said – says' retaliated Ginny.

Ginny looked at the dead boy in front of her, at the freckles mixed with blood scattered all over his face, at the closed eyes and the snub nose. He was so innocent. How had he gotten so mixed up in all of this? How was he dead? He used to be the little sweet boy, too shy to move, practically. No one would have guessed all the trouble he would see before his days were threw. Although, Ginny had to give him credit, he had stayed alive long enough to defeat Voldemort once and for all. He had finished off the sixth Horcrux by himself because Harry and Ron were on substantial bed rest.

Ginny moved her hand across his face, feeling all the bumps of grooves, signifying his humanity, and feeling the scars that told a tale of sadness and triumph. She decided now wasn't the best time to be having a debate in her head. She needed to find a way out of Salazar Slytherin's castle. Maybe, she could get Neville to safety in time for him to be saved. With a little luck, some courage and some wits, Ginny had learned that anything could happen. It was almost magic.


	3. chapter 3

Chapter 3 Mysterious Strangers 

Hermione just wanted to get out. A Death Eater had locked her in a prison cell with no door. The walls were made of huge immobile stones stuffed with dirt and moss in the cracks. She could tell they were enchanted so as to act like glue sticking the stones together. This cell was not supposed to have an escape route. She was scared. She wasn't even sure which side had won the war. She didn't know who was on whose side anymore. Crabbe had killed Goyle and Mlafoy had saved her life but then proceeded to kill Luna Lovegood. Snape had protected Bill Weasly but narrowly missed Charlie's head with the Killing Curse. Hermione was too perplexed and exhausted to think.

Hermione suddenly heard breathing, besides her own, in the room. She sat as still as possible deciding what to do. The breather was either sick or dying because the breaths were sharp and far between, more like gasping than breathing. 'It could be an animal,' she thought, considering her options, 'it could be a friend… or enemy.'

'Help,' the breather whispered.

Hermione couldn't tell whose voice it was, farther than the fact that it belonged to a man. Hermione closed her eyes before turning around. It could be Ron; Hermione had gotten to know Ron in unexpected ways after they had visited Godric's Hollow, back in August. She wouldn't be too upset at all if it was Ron. He was the 'love of her life', Hermione had gotten used to saying. It could be Ron or Harry, Harry always knew just what to do, he had that sort of bravery; her love for him was 'just sisterly love', Hermione had to constantly remind herself now.

A hand slipped onto her left shoulder. Hermione stared at it. The hand was pale. So pale, the blue veins were completely visible through the pale skin. The skin looked almost translucent, as if it's owner hadn't seen food or daylight for months. The breather's hand was shaking slightly and bleeding profusely. Hermione saw the blood from a huge gash on the wrist. It bled through the visible hem of black robes. Black robes…. Death Eater's robes…. Bleeding wrist…. Dark Mark…

Suddenly the hand caught Hermione around her neck and pulled her down onto the concave, the result of a lack of food in the breather's stomach with astonishing force. Hermione was covered in blood that was not her own. There was a huge cut in the stomach, she realized. She was lying on top of a Death Eater. She looked up in order to distinguish the face; Draco Malfoy was dying.


	4. Dead

Neville was dead. "Dead as a doornail," some might say. Neville wouldn't say that though, because he was dead. Dead people didn't usually say anything, so neither would Neville.

Neville opened his eyes and began to both admire and speculate on his surroundings… on heaven. Since heaven was his new home, Neville decided he would like it, although it was rather plain. You see, for those of you who have not yet experienced this particular phenomenon called heaven, it was very white. That was just about all Neville could gather to say about it. It was what it was and it was simply white.

Heaven was supposed to be a place in which one could feel, hear and see all the things, which one had loved most while one was still alive. At least, that was what Neville had thought, but he had thought it before he died so he had had no former experience in the matter. Now that he had died, Neville reconsidered and decided that heaven was reasonably…boring.

Neville sniffed. He wanted to see whether heaven smelled better than it looked. This was a definite possibility. He had learned this method helped profusely in any situation but especially when dealing with Neville's grandmother's cooking. It didn't smell particularly pleasant either. Heaven smelled like stale coffee and cleaning fluid. Neville hadn't thought the smells of stale coffee and cleaning fluid had been particularly close to his heart, but he supposed they could be. Those smells reminded Neville of his parents, and his parents made him a bit depressed. He preferred not to think of hospitals while he was dead, he had had quite enough of them when he was alive.

Very suddenly, a face appeared in heaven. It was the face of a woman. She looked around twenty and possessed a very lively, but somewhat unintelligent, personage. The woman had glowing skin and a few pimples around her nose. Her features were average and there was not much to say about her except for the fact that she definitely didn't look at all dead. Her head filled up heaven due to its enormous size.

'Well,' thought Neville to himself, 'SHE certainly looks very much alive. How could a living person come to be in heaven?'

' A PERSON! A PERSON! How dare you call god a mere mortal insolent beast!' Neville retorted, angry at his own insolence.

'Oh, I see, this thing in front of me is god. That makes much more sense.'

The heads size bothered Neville a little so, although it was god, Neville tried to look past it and into the calming sea of plain white right behind god. Even though the white was boring it didn't hurt Neville's eyes as much as looking at god did.

"Oh good, The Boy Who Lived is awake everybody! The Chosen One has woken!" god ejaculated loudly with an unexpectedly rich, cockney accent.

Neville agreed with god, in heaven he was awake and alive. He resented the fact that god knew him as The Boy Who Lived but nothing could be done about that. Everyone on earth had eventually known that he was The Chosen One so it fit that god would call him by the same name.

"Oh dear, he's not focusing on anything. Neville, honey, can you hear me?" god asked Neville with a look of great on her face.

"Guh," Neville replied. He had meant to say 'Of course I can hear see you, and hear you, but I would prefer not to look at you since I just died and I'm all out of sorts.

"Hmmm… you're not doing as well as I thought you would, sweetie, oh my dear…" god commented as her eyes filled with tears.

God promptly left heaven and Neville closed his eyes. He didn't like heaven much.


	5. Head In The Clouds

Chapter five Head in the Clouds 

"Come here, son, don't make a sound," Lucius commanded from across the darkened room. There was a murmur of agreement and approval of the ceremony that was about to begin. Quickly, the black robed wizards went silent. The only sound now was from the clicking of high-heeled boot on marble as Draco walked to the podium where his father stood.

Draco was ecstatic under his extreme solemnity. It was the moment his life had been leading up to thus far. He was finally going to do what he wanted to do since he had been able to speak. He wanted to run to the podium where his father so proudly stood. Draco wanted to stand up for what he believed in and play his part in the outcome of the world, and the war.

"Hold out your hand," the elder Malfoy ordered of the younger one.

Draco did as he was told and did so willingly. His hand shook a little from the excitement of the event. Lucius pulled back Draco's black silk sleeve. He pulled the engraved dagger out of his belt. Mr. Malfoy held his right hand under Draco's left one to support it. His left hand, the one charged with the power of the ancient instrument it now possessed, made it's first deep cut in the visible blue line just below Draco's elbow.

Lucius drew the dagger down to a few millimeters above Draco's palm. He cut the curving lines for the snake and the sharper more precise ones for the skull. The blood stained the silk and Draco was proud. He dared not flinch under Malfoy's royal grip. His arm did hurt excessively and he wished he could stop feeling the pain of each line cutting through his skin and veins. The pain ruined the moment a tad but Draco tried to not let himself think about it. This was only the begging. This was just a ceremony to make a symbol of the great glory that was to come.

Lucius took the dagger back and wiped the bloodied blade on the front of Draco's robes, as was tradition. "Dismissed. We meet when we are next called," Lucius announced to the eager contents of the room, declaring the end of the ceremony.

Malfoy sighed in relief and glanced at his wrist. The cut healed itself instantaneously upon the gathering's release. The throbbing ebbed away and now there was just a raw scab to remind Malfoy of the pain that he had endured tonight. Malfoy watched the snake writhe and give itself much more distinctive features. The skull's jaw opened and closed. It opened once more and Draco's arm flashed green for an instant. It was only a second but it meant that Malfoy was now, and would always be, a Death Eater.

Later that night Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle drank as much as they deemed possible next to the bushes on the outer wall of the mansion's west wing. Malfoy remembered looking at Crabbe regurgitating into the bushes. He remembered looking at Goyles eyes and seeing something there that he knew he would no longer be able to find I his own… –

Malfoy was looking on once again.

He saw the green marble of the ancient Slytherin Mansion.

He saw the dying around them.

He saw the screaming.

He saw the fighting.

The war was almost over. Most on both sides were collapsed on the floor, on the cursed green marble. It was Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle versus Hermione and George Weasly. Crabbe had his wand pointed at the weakening girl. His mouth was already beginning to form the words. The two words most feared by wizard kind. Draco couldn't just stand there and watch it happen. To see Crabbe become a murder and not do anything about it, Draco deemed an impossible feet. He didn't want to see Crabbe take the light out of someone's eyes. He was made for that sort of thing, not Crabbe.

"Avada –," Crabbe began.

On instinct, and without thinking for a second, Malfoy pointed Crabbe's wand away from the culprit.

"KEDAVRA!" Crabbe finished.

Before either of the boys knew what the outcome of their collective actions could possibly be, Goyle's head hit the cold green marble.

"Goyle?" Crabbe asked rather timidly bending down in order to hear his friend's response. Upon waiting and not receiving any signs, Crabbe worst nightmares were validated.

"Goyle," Crabbe said a bit more audibly.

"GOYLE!" he screamed and pounded on Goyle's chest, fists coming down in rapid succession. Crabbe stopped beating his friend and instead, pointed his wand at himself and whispered softly, with a twisted grin spread across his face, "AVADA KEDAVRA…"

Malfoy stared at the two of them. He was thinking of what he ought to do now. He was without Crabbe and Goyle. He felt naked. Hermione and George had led while they could and Malfoy was left alone in the midst of all the chaos with his dead friends.

Wait… he still had his wand out… he was next to his dead friends… how would that look if someone spotted him?

Before Malfoy had time to move, he felt himself being lifted by both his arms, which were not being held up by two very strong men, most likely the elder Crabbe, and Goyle, his former friend's parents. The two men carried him far away from the scene of the fighting.


	6. Starched Sheets

_author's note: it's now been over a year since I finished the 28th chapter of this, and looking back I realize that each chapter is more of a little snippet of a scene than an actual chapter. I suppose the upside of this mislabeling is that each 'chapter' is in reality a lot shorter than I anticipated, so that the idea of 28 chapters should be a lot less daunting._

_Because this story is so old (at least to me) I would greatly appreciate comments, both critical and (dare I ask?) congratulatory if you like this story. I'm looking to go back and revise it, or perhaps rewrite the entire thing and republish, once I've finished publishing what I have as of now_

_Enjoy_

_lnpr_

Chapter 6 Starched Sheets 

"Ginny, Ginny dear, will you be wanting any breakfast this morning?" a young woman with a glowing face and happy demeanor was making her rounds and came into Ginny's view.

"What? Where am I?" Ginny asked, startled from her half slumber and half wakeful contemplation.

The last thing she could remember was Neville's dead body on the cold hard marble. Who had really won? Had Ginny been captured by the enemy? Ginny sat bolt upright very quickly and the world spun around her. She blinked and it went back into its proper place.

"Ginny, darling, what's the hurry? You're at St. Mungo's Hospital for Witches and Wizards," the nurse explained, "you've been asleep for about a day and a half now. It was ample time for all your banes to heal. You're the first of the Survivors to wake. Well, the first of the children, in any case. I believe Mrs. Weasly is awake too. She's in a bit of a state though, your father… Well, if you decide you'd like to get out of bed and walk around, please do so slowly. We're not quite sure how the shock has affected your young bodies. You may get dizzy very easily. Here's breakfast. I'll leave you to your own devices."

The nurse put down a tray on Ginny's bed. Breakfast at the hospital apparently consisted of dry toast, stale coffee and runny eggs that Ginny daren't touch, much less eat. One would think that after saving the entire Wizarding World the hospital the survivors were recuperating at would at least provide proper nourishment. Well, if one thought that, one would be wrong. Since Ginny hadn't been particularly hungry in the first place, and the served meal looked truly unappetizing, Ginny resolved that she ought to look around and see what… condition… her friends were in.


	7. Stones

_Dearest readers, please r&r, I've decided to just put the rest of this out there. Thank you Fluffy the adventure… and, Wykkyd, read on, you'll see then whether Harry really is bigheaded._ Chapter 7 Stones 

"No, no, stop! Please stop! I didn't mean to! It wasn't my fault! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!"  
Those were the first words Hermione heard upon waking. She kept her eyes closed and listened intently to the pitiful voice going from screaming, to  
pleading, and back to a bellowing roar. Before she opened her eyes Hermione  
wanted to know where she was and what was going on. Over the past six months she had found herself waking up in so many different places and situation. She had learned from experience that opening her eyes as she woke was not always the safest thing to do.  
"Please, please! Father! Master! Professor! Oh, please, Professor, help me! I'm sorry! Please help me…" the voice trailed off into a mumbling whisper.  
Hermione did open her eyes, then. Who ever was lying next to her was either being tortured or delirious and she needed to help them. She found herself  
staring up at gray stones that she was not at all familiar with. The screaming and moaning was coming from directly below her left ear. She could feel someone's hot panting breath on her neck. A breath filled with misery and despair and something else Hermione couldn't name. In order to establish whom the person was. Hermione sat up and looked over her shoulder. First all she could see was pale blond hair; so pale it was almost white. The head turned and Hermione was exposed to a face even paler than the hair. Malfoy's eyes were closed and there was dried blood all over his nose. The corner of his lower lip was swollen and scabbed over.  
Hermione scooted herself over to the other side of the small room and shivered with disgust. She was in a room with no door and her only company was a young beaten up death eater that had gone mad in the process. His arms and legs were flailing as if he were trying to escape some past horrors that he was reliving in his present state.

The evening before reentered Hermione's thoughts and she remembered where she was and what had happened. She remembered the bleeding and the translucency of his arm and the helplessness in his voice. She remembered the dying and the end of the war. The bleeding…with a start, Hermione stood up and cast about her for her wand. The Death Eaters had been messy and had forgotten to separate Hermione from it. She eventually spotted it in the corner near Malfoy's head.

"Malfoy, Malfoy, lie still for a moment, will you!" Hermione shouted, a bit afraid of going so near him while he was having that… tantrum, for lack of a better word. She was trying to if not wake him, at least to quell his rage.

"Put me down! This instant!" he shouted to the air imperiously, "Please, Master, I meant no harm! I'll be good! I'll come back! I didn't…" He begged. This was Malfoy's only response to Hermione's request.

Taking desperate measures to get to her wand, Hermione sat on top of her archenemy and attempted to pin down his hands with one of hers while reaching over him for her wand. After about fifteen unsuccessful minutes, she managed to grab her wand. First, she pointed it at the huge gash in his stomach and muttered "_SANAREMAGNO!" _The wound began to scab over a bit and transformed into a much less cavernous injury. Now it was simply a wide, but not dangerous. Hermione exhaled in relief as she stood up. Shallow cuts, she could deal with. Shallow cuts were not life threatening, well, most of the time. Hermione herself had a multitude of wide shallow cuts herself. Try as she might, there was no way Hermione could position herself so she could heal his right arm; he was thrashing so much in his sleep, she only caught glances of it. it looked as if his Dark Mark had opened up and was trying to kill him via blood loss.

Now, the question rose in her mind, how does one exit a room with no door? ' Make a door' she thought to herself, in answer to her question. "_DEMOLIRI WALL!" _She shouted, directing her wand to the gray stone and using all her willpower to force the blocks apart. Nothing happened. Perhaps, a bit of dust fell out of one of the miniscule cracks, but that was all.

"No! Stop! I don't want this anymore! Stop! It hurts!" Malfoy shouted, his arms flailing madly. Before Hermione could do anything to stop it, she heard the crack of bone hitting stone as Malfoy's wrist hit the wall with inconceivable force. He howled in pain and his eyelids fluttered for a few moments then all was silent except for a few quick and shallow breaths.

"Great," Hermione thought outloud, "There's no way for us to get out of here. I am going to die with my archrival as my last sole companion. Even though I survived the war, I am going to die anyway."

As she said this, Hermione heard a loud creaking as the huge rocks that composed a wall began to shift apart. Malfoy had been much more useful than Hermione had ever fathomed.


	8. Ward No 29

Chapter 8 Ward NO. 29

Ginny lifted her feet slowly and placed them on the floor as cautiously as she thought possible. She was afraid that her feet would no longer support her. Hadn't she fallen, during the final battle, at a crucial moment? Hadn't she been unable to stand after that?

Luckily, this time Ginny was completely capable of assuming an upright position. The hospital floor was cold but Ginny didn't mind. She shivered a little due to the fact that she was mercilessly dressed in a hospital gown. Ginny carefully walked to the end of bed and, leaning on her bedpost, observed her surroundings.

Everything was impersonal white, clean, starched and tidy. She was in a room with seven other beds besides her own. Across from her was Harry, sound asleep and snoring softly as with everyone in the room. Next to Harry's bed was Neville's, then Ron's next to that – the three men she loved most in the world all lying side by side.

Harry had been her boyfriend. Ginny had loved him so passionately. He had loved her. They had been the perfect couple. Perhaps, they would get back together now. It was possible that now the stress was off their shoulders she could enjoy a normal relationship with him. Ginny sighed. It all sounded nice but…. Something was missing. Any possible clue to Harry's consent, perhaps? No one had dared talk farther into the future than the next few days because nobody knew who would still be around.

Ginny looked at Ron. He was her big brother. They had become so close since this summer. He had saved Ginny's life countless times, as many as she had saved his. Ginny was so glad to see him and know he was safe. It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders, she smiled. She knew, no matter what, Ron would always be there for her.

Ginny turned her attention to the most perplexing subject in the room. Neville lay with his eyes opened. He lay absolutely still, barely even bothering to blink. Occasionally Ginny could see the rise and fall of the sheets that marked his breathing. Neville had taken Ginny to the ball during her third year. He was an awful dancer but so sweet nonetheless. He had given Ginny a rose that was enchanted to hum some unfamiliar romantic tune. Ginny had thought it was so tacky at the time but now she thought the gesture was sweet. Neville had changed since he had known both he and Harry were on even playing ground. Over the past few months he had sacrificed so much and saved so many lives for ultimate good. Ginny had found herself, more than once, comparing the two boys, Neville and Harry. She tended to find Harry coming up short.

Ginny sighed and resigned herself to explore the other rooms. There were so many people she needed to find. Where were the others? She walked out of the room and closed the door carefully behind her.

"Children's Ward" read the sign. As the door swung shut behind her.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 The MediWitches

"And I suppose you aren't up either, Mr. Potter? My gosh, I do hope you children begin to rouse yourselves soon. It must have been some fight that has you all sleeping so long. Poor Ginny Weasly is so lonely with none of you awake. She hasn't said anything to me, not in so may words but she's been up since this morning and she doesn't seem to have anything to do except sit and stare at the closest walls blankly. Some of the doctors are suggesting that they'll just shake you till you wake if you aren't up by this evening. " The nurse chattered half-heartedly to a sleeping Harry. She, herself, was beginning to become rather restless. She had worked so hard to get a position caring for these special children and all they ever did was sleep. She removed Harry's untouched breakfast and replaced it with lunch.

"I mean, one would think that at least a few of you little ones would be awake by the time your bones had healed. It must have been hard on you kiddies. I hear that they couldn't find any Death Eaters. I wonder if they all died or disappeared. I wish there was some awake enough to tell me but no one is, of course"

"We don't know where they went. I think since they were so inter-tangled with Voldemort's magic, when he died, they died as well." Harry answered her not-quite-asked question with his eyes still closed, "and I am awake. Where's Ginny. You said she was up too." Harry barely moved his mouth as he spoke and his eyes stayed closed. Even with such a speech barrier, a tang of annoyance was audible in his voice.

"Well, Mr. Potter, I believe Ginny's in the cafeteria. I think all the survivors are going to have a meeting there after dinner tonight." The nurse replied, a tad anxious, Harry's bad mood would not reflect well on her if he talked to her superiors. She hadn't really intended her rambling to be heard by any of these child-heroes.

Harry opened his eyes and the nurse jumped back in surprise, as he did so very quickly and without warning. He sat up stiffly, and proceeded to stand. The nurse seemed scared and hurried off very quickly muttering under her breath. Harry followed her, hoping to find the cafeteria. When she had strayed too far from any smells of food, Harry followed anyone who seemed pink with hunger. Eventually, the smells of thinned tomato sauce and overcooked pasta became unbearable, and he knew he was at the dining hall.


	10. Stroll

Chapter 10 Stroll

"Okay, Malfoy, up on my shoulders. Shit, you're heavier than I thought you would be. How are you so heavy if you're so skinny, my god," Hermione lifted Malfoy, piggy-back style, on her back and step-crawled out of the hole Malfoy had made with his hand. Hermione figured that since Malfoy had made the whole the least she could do was carry him through it, and, since he had saved her life, she would take him to the grand hall. Because he had killed Luna, she would carry the disgusting creature no further.

"Okay, it's alright, you can do this," she muttered to herself wincing from the pain shooting through her ankle. Her shins were bruised all over, her toe was bleeding from the friction and there was a bone in her forearm she was sure she had broken. On top of all that was Malfoy, a five foot eleven groaning blond boy who had plenty of muscle himself, "Walk a bit, left, left, take this right. Walk this path, right, right again."

After about an hour of intense pain and tedious walking, Hermione needed to sit down and rest. "I'm sitting down, Malfoy, if you don't mind…" she said, while taking him off her back and propping him on the floor. She moaned quietly as she sat down and rested her head on the cold stone wall. Malfoy had stopped making noise and had quieted down for a moment. His eyes fluttered open for moments, closed, and snapped open again once more.

"It hurts. I know how this looks but you've got to help. It hurts and it's still coming. Help, Granger…" without further ado, he vomited on the ground.

"Super, Malfoy, excellent," Hermione snapped, "let's get going then. You ruined my second of peace. "

Hermione stood and lifted Malfoy again taking care not to step in the mess, "So, right, walk a bit, turn left, left again, walk a bit further, don't think about your ankle, left, right, walk, left, left, left… Oh. " Hermione was at a crossroad and she had the choice of turning left or right. She looked down the left corridor and saw a mess of regurgitation. "Well, in that case, right it is. Walk a little… YES!"

Hermione almost jumped at what she saw. She would have really jumped if she hadn't been so hard on her feet already. Hermione saw black robes and green marble; in other words, she was back in the grand hall. She knew how to get out of here.

"I'm done carrying you, Malfoy, this is as far as you're getting.

Malfoy's eyes were closed and he looked oddly calm and peaceful. It was almost eerie, Hermione thought. She placed him on the ground, took a moment to stare at the sight, and began to limp away. In the distance she could see the surviving adults and a fleet of Mediwitches helping the injured to his feet and carrying away dead bodies


	11. Getting Hot

Chapter 11 Getting Hot

He stared at the fire. It was a very ominous shade of blue but this did not disturb him. He wanted to move away from it, but not because of the flame's strange color. The problem was that the flame was emanating cold air that chilled him to his very bones.

The waves of cold swayed his thin silk robes. He would have liked to shiver, but he felt any movement might mean death in this strange place. The air blew his robes in a way that made the fabric billow out behind him and stick to his front. He was sure that in other circumstances he might have found the compromising position very much appreciated. At the moment though, it didn't work in his favor.

In the present, the position simply made him feel naked, alone, and terrified. Terror was not an unusual feeling for him, but any emotion of this degree felt strange. Not that he had felt normal at any time in his recent past, reliving all of one's horrifying memories since birth was not a pleasant experience. At least, that's what he thought had happened. One can never quite tell in this sort of situation.

"Traitor! Traitor! Liar! Traitor! Coward!"

He spun around, trying to locate the source of the voices. He went around on his feet twice, first quickly, then much slower, at a perplexed, stumbling pace. He tried to walk way from both the fire and the voices, but to know avail. All that existed was the dirt ground, the blue flame, and himself.

"The earth is talking. The voices are under your feet."

A voice had spoken out alone, interrupting his frantic thoughts. The sounds hung in the air long after they were spoken. They danced. They filled the empty atoms of the universe. These words were spoken more clearly than the others. They weren't catcalls.

A cloaked figure was visible as the boy looked up. He could see no more of him than the shadows the blue light cast upon his body. The face was hidden by a hood and the boy couldn't even see shadows there, just darkness. He felt, though, that if he could see the face, it would be as unfamiliar as the voice.

"They want to kill you. You're safe here. You have to go back soon. They know what you did. They know you failed."

The voice stated this so simply. It was a menacing monotone without the slightest trace of emotion or even ill-omened mechanics. The boy was rooted to the spot. He knew his feet would not move if he asked them to, and he didn't dare test this theory. The point this strange figure made was moot, indisputable. The boy had ruined everything and deserved any punishment anyone could think up, if they wanted to waste the time thinking about him.

"You owe them lives."

He wanted to avert his eyes from these painful words, but he knew it was true. Besides, he felt incapable of moving the required muscles in his eyes to do so.

"You still have value. You owe me no lives. You only owe _me_ obedience."

The boy knew this was trouble. He didn't need more trouble. He had enough without this cloaked man. Was this the person causing him so much pain? Was this the reason he had been tortured? The boy could no longer stand for this. He spoke, "Why do I owe you anything?"

"I have something you need."

What did that mean? The boy had nothing he needed. There was no one that could be held ransom. Everyone he had ever cared for was dead.

"You need protection. Obey me and you won't be hurt."

It wasn't a request, or even a threat, just a command. He wouldn't die, but he had to kill. It always lead to killing. Death, somehow, was the only thing that could not be stopped. It kept coming, a constant companion in his life. He and death were side-by-side.

The boy sighed. He could kill again. He was free of whatever spell had been cast on him and now he was able to move. The figure seemed to start going backwards without moving. It was as if the rest of the universe was moving forward for this one being.

As the figure disappeared, the boy's attention was turned to the blue flames, burning without wood, on the ground. The flames were changing shape, molding from one thing to another, first a chain, then a snake, a sword… something was burning his neck… metal, a necklace of some sort, tiny chains interlocking a drawn down just below the collar of his cloak. They were pulled both by gravity and – he fingered the talisman at the bottom while trying to look down at it – a silver snake wrapped around a sword.


	12. Green is the New Red

Chapter 12 Green is the new Red

"The nurse told me you might be here," someone said behind her.

Ginny turned her head quickly, her hair distorted her view momentarily and the speed at which had moved made her eyes blur for a second. Once she regained her wits, the speaker was clearly visible. Unruly hair covered his eyes and Ginny could just see spellotape wrapped around the bridge of his glasses. There was a smile on his lips. His shoulders hunched slightly because his hands were stuck in the pockets of his jeans with his thumbs out. How had he managed to get his street clothes back? Ginny was suddenly very conscious of her own lack of clothing. She was still wearing the loose white hospital gown the nurse had given her, and nothing more

"Harry!" Ginny cried, running to throw her arms around him but stopping mid-gesture, once she realized the awkwardness of the situation.

"Right, erm… how are you, Harry?"

"I'm, I… I could be worse. You?"

"Fine. I'm alright," Ginny smiled, despite her best efforts to refrain. She could tell just how uncomfortable he was. All his muscles had tensed up and he shifted his weight from side to side. Ginny looked up at his eyes to see if they would tell her anything. He had never been too good at hiding his feelings from her.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Why are your eyes closed?" She asked, bewildered. Had he gone blind? Was he sick? Did he not want to look at her? Was she so hideous? He looked perfectly normal… as normal as one could be in these … extenuating … circumstances.

"The nurse got frightened when I opened them. I didn't want to scare you… I… I was hoping…"

"You were hoping what?" asked Ginny impatiently but beaming, and hanging on to his every word.

"I was hoping that… the two of us… things between us would be normal as possible."

Oh. Well, Ginny hadn't really been expecting that, but it was a step in the right direction. He had come to find her. He wanted to talk to her. Was that a good thing? What about Neville? Did she love him?

Did she have to choose?

Right, back to the present situation, "Harry, open your eyes."

"No," his voice was stern but Ginny also detected something else. Fear, maybe? Apprehension? Whatever it was, Ginny was sure she could sway Harry. He had loved her, after all.

"Please, I'll tell you what they look like."

Harry's eyelids flew open.

"Oh," was all Ginny could said before she could stop herself.

"Oh? Could you elaborate a bit?" the corners of Harry's mouth twitched upward with the passing shadow of smile but the rest of his face remained clearly filled with concern.

"They're…" there were so many things to say yet no words seemed to be enough. Beautiful? Horrifying? Spectacular? At first the astonish clarity and brightness of the green coloring took one's breath away. Ginny looked past them and realized that light was radiating off of them. They were glowing. His eyes seemed to possess some terrifying beauty thus far unknown.

"Can you see?"

"Yes."

"Could you see when they were closed?"

Harry paused and Ginny waited for his answer, "Well… I hadn't thought about that… I mean, I found my way here from people who looked hungry. I guess I could. I think so. What do my eyes look like? Why was the nurse so shocked?"

"You're eyes are… green," Harry opened his mouth to interrupt but Ginny continued, "Greener than before. They're greener than the essence of green. Not like anything I've ever seen."

"Does it scare you?" asked Harry. Ginny supposed this had been the question he was getting at.

"No," Ginny replied automatically. She didn't hesitate. It was a bit scary but nothing Ginny couldn't get used to eventually if… if… it was permanent.

"You're lying."

The statement took Ginny by surprise. Lying was a strong word for not validating Harry's premonitions and fears caused by some nurse.

"I didn't lie, Harry."

"Yes you did. You've lied twice now."

"Okay! I lied! They're a bit scary, yes! Does that make you feel better? It's something I'll get used to. We all changed."

"I'm glad you're okay," Harry decided. Suddenly, they were standing much closer to each other, "everything is okay. We're all safe. You and I are safe." He was whispering now. His forehead touched hers, barely. His skin was hot. If Ginny hadn't known better, she would have thought he was feverish. She took his hands in hers. His lips met hers for a fleeting moment. Ginny kissed him back, harder, more sure of herself. They had lost so much time.

Ginny felt a combination of butterflies and fireworks explode in her stomach, or, perhaps, fireworks in butterfly shapes… maybe exploding butterflies?…


	13. First Meetings

Chapter 13, First Meetings

"Alright then, now that we're all _fully _awake, and after _most_ of the adults have had some time to discuss the current situation, we decided to hold a meeting about what's happening next for all of us," Lupin began, giving choice stern looks to certain members of the party congregated around the corner table in the cafeteria, "First off, is there anyone here who still isn't a legal adult?"

Colin Creevy tentively raised his hand, "I'm only fourteen now," he offered shyly. Colin had gotten a lot quieter after his brother, Dennis, had been killed by the after-affects of a very strong Imperius Curse.

"Yea, I'm still sixteen," agreed Zacharias Smith.

"So is Ginny!" Mrs. Weasly volunteered proudly and with great indignation. Ron knew the subject was a sore and well-picked-over one between the two women.

"Mother!" Ginny exclaimed, cheeks and ears flushing a violent shade of red, "I'm turning seventeen March twenty fourth!"

That was true, Ron smiled. Come March twenty fourth, his mother would no longer be able to even try and subdue Ginny. She wouldn't have control over any of her children – anymore control than they allowed her, that is. Ron knew this thought frightened his mother and she pretended to be ignorant of it. No one wanted to enlighten her, so it went unsaid. Once Ginny was gone, Mrs. Weasly, formerly the most busy housewife imaginable, would be living as a widow on her own.

"March twenty fourth, Ginny?" asked Bill, thinking intently.

"Yes, I was born March twenty fourth _almost _seventeen years ago."

"Ginny, when was the last time you had access to a calendar or date?" Asked Charlie, smiling.

"January fourth, we had a trail at Grimmauld Place, remember? You were there, Bill. We found a magical, self-flipping date book lying on the floor in the drawing room," Ginny answered with dignity. She was very proud she had known the date and tried to continue keeping track of it for about a week afterwards. It didn't work out, though and she had had to give up once they had been captured in a room with no light.

"Well, I hate to break it to you… I asked the MediWizard for the date today. He said it was March twenty eighth." The room was silent for a moment after Charlie spoke.

"We were unconscious here for two days. That means we came in the twenty fifth. We weren't in Slytherin's house for all that long before they managed to find us. Which means…" Lavender Brown concluded before trailing off into thought.

"Right, thank you, Lavender, in any case. Except for Zach and Colin, we're all seventeen or older, correct?"

"What happened to Dennis?" asked Harry, innocently. He hadn't been able to check who was in the hospital and who was absent, so he had had no way of knowing Dennis had died. At the mention of his brother's name, Colin broke down in tears and was kindly escorted out by Tonks.

"Nice, Harry. Let Lupin talk," ejaculated a frustrated Ron.

"Thank you, Ron. Could we all stay quiet for a moment? Mrs. Weasly, you're going back to the burrow, if I'm not mistaken. Bill, I hope you stay as well. Charlie, you need to collect all the dragons that were used in the war. We believe them to be scattered over the east of the countryside. Minerva, you'll be starting up the school again?"

"Yes, of course."

"Hagrid, Tonks, Hestia and myself are going to work there. Zach, you and Colin will be living with the Creevy's and going back to school next term. I think Hogwarts will have reopened by then. Susan, your aunt requested that you learn Ministry law so you'll be starting courses in two weeks. An apartment is being found for you near the Regalos Scrib School of Wizard Law."

"Oh!" exclaimed Susan with a very pleased grin.

"What about us?" Ron asked, wanting to get to the point of the conversation, as he saw it.

"Well… Lavender will teaching at Divination at Hogwarts, Katie got an offer to play Quiddicth with the Chudley Cannons-"

"What!" Harry and Ron shouted at the same time.

"They wanted you two as well but figured, what with the injuries you sustained, and how much you would cost, Katie was a better choice. Besides, they only needed a Chaser," Madame Hooch explained.

"Oh… have fun, Katie," Ron said, dejectedly.

"So Katie's doing that, Angelina wants to work at Fred and George's shop and we figured you, Neville, Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione, ought to lie low for a little while. Rest, relax, figure out what you want to do with your lives, find enjoyable vocations…"


	14. Settlers

Part 3 Chapter fourteen, Settlers

"C'mon, Harry! This'll be your room for now, " Ginny coaxed, tugging on Harry's arm.

"I can't believe they intend for us to live here," Harry moaned.

"Well, it's only temporary. It'll be fun. This is just until we figure out what we're doing. Besides, the landlord gave it to us for free, as long as we signed that picture of us she had in her living room and come over for tea occasionally."

"This is so humiliating."

"Yes, well… it could be worse. We'll make do; stop complaining," Ginny cried, exasperated.

Harry surveyed the room. Hermione and Ginny had set it up for him the day before. He thought the gesture sweet but… unnecessary. They had put up all of Ron's Chudley Cannon posters on Ron's side of the room. On Harry's side was decorated with framed posters of school and the two pictures they had managed to take while the five friends stayed at the Weasly's for Christmas. A stack of fan mail nested on a shelf along with his old school books and Harry's scant treasured possessions.

It was as if they wanted him back in all those "carefree" times he had enjoyed at school. Not that he had had very much time to be "carefree". In fact, when he had ever _NOT _had his life on the line. They wanted Harry to forget everything he had seen and heard. The betrayal and pain, the fighting and war, wouldn't just disappear. He was supposed to find this place comfortable and welcoming. Did they really expect him to be happy here? Who _could _be happy in this place? In _any_ place?

"I'm going to go check out my room, alright? I decorated Hermione's and she did mine. I want to see it," Ginny almost pleaded, breaking Harry's chain of miserable thoughts.

She pulled Harry into the room and plopped him down. 'She treats me like I'm her small child, not her boyfriend,' Harry thought, sitting placidly on the bed. He closed his eyes and lay down, listening to her heels tap on the floor as she walked away. Ginny had become so motherly. She was now so like Mrs. Weasly, the similarity was uncanny. Once Ginny's footsteps had faded and the murmurings of her and Hermione's whispered conversation had gone behind closing doors, shuffling sounds were audible from the other side of Harry's room. Harry opened his eyes and sat up.

"Ah! Warn me before opening your eyes, Harry! It's freaky!" Ron exclaimed, frightened.

Harry smiled, enjoying the honesty this statement provided. Ever since last summer, Hermione had kept more and more from Harry, so he had been made to rely on Ron for any truth. "Sorry, Ron. What's up?" he inquired.

"Not much. It's a little weird being here though," Ron sat down next to Harry on the bed. Harry exhaled, relieved that someone, besides himself, felt that way. He was momentarily very happy he was here and could talk freely. Harry laughed.

"What's funny?" asked a bewildered Ron.

"It's just… I feel the same way. Don't tell your sister or Hermione, " Harry answered and thought in silence for a moment, "Promise that no matter what happens, there'll be no more secrets. If we had just been able to sit down and talk openly, so many people would still be alive."

"Um, okay. I sort of thought that that was a given."

"Sorry. I just wanted to make sure, " Harry said, beginning to feel foolish for even starting the conversation, "So, um, what are you thinking about doing? You know… find a job?"

Ron's face brightened at the prospect. He had obviously thought a lot about this while recuperating at the hospital. "Well, I dunno. I sort of want to join Fred at the shop, then again… I dunno, "Ron suddenly became immensely interested in the exact shape of his thumbs and their movement in a twiddling – motion.

"C'mon, Ron, you know you can tell me _anything_," Harry wasn't particularly in need to hear but he figured it was the right thing to say.

"Okay! I'll tell you!" Ron shouted as if it had been forced out of him, "I think I want to go into the ministry! Don't laugh!" Ron exclaimed, anticipating outrage to an extreme degree.

"Why would I laugh?" asked Harry, confused.

"I thought… I thought… well, isn't the whole ministry deal sort of your thing?"

"Um… no," since when had the ministry been 'Harry's thing'? Wasn't it Ron's dad that worked there? Was there something he was missing.

"Well, not just the ministry, a certain job _at _the ministry."

"Yes, Ron, I assumed that."

Ron didn't catch the sarcasm in Harry's voice because he continued nervously, "Erm, not just a job at the ministry, this particular one. I was thinking… after all I've been through… I thought I might have it in me to… even though, I dunno what they're gonna do now but…"

"WHAT RON!" Harry interrupted, "just say it!"

"An auror."

"Oh, nice," Harry smiled with a little more effort than he expected necessary, "that's really great, Ron, you probably won't even need to go through training cause you have so much experience." Harry suddenly really didn't want to sit on the bed with Ron.

"Oh, okay, I'm glad you're happy for me. I'm gonna go get some air," Ron's smile seemed to have deflated slightly and the happy specks of golden glee had disappeared from his eyes, he obviously interpreted Harry's lack of excitement as barely concealed anger. He tied up his broken excuses for shoelaces and walked out of their shared room.

'He won't get in anyway,' thought Harry bitterly to himself. 'Ron was in the battle but not the front line. He's just a sidekick, that's all.'

'No, that's not all! That's an awful thing to say! Be _happy_ for him. Ron is your _best mate_. He just wanted your approval,' Harry thought back to himself, a little guiltily.


	15. A Little Air

Chapter 15 A Little Air

"He's just shocked, that's all. He didn't expect it," Ron mumbled to himself on the way downstairs, "I knew he would be. I knew he wouldn't take it well. Once Harry calms down, he'll be happy for me. He just needs time. Maybe he'll go through training with me. Even if I don't get in, he will."

Ron opened the door to the outside world. It was March, but still freezing. He shivered a little, and regretted not taking a jacket of some sort. He leaned against the outer wall of the building. He fumbled in his pants pocket for a moment and produced a cigarette and a lighter. It was a bit of a Muggle habit to use a lighter but Ron had been taught to smoke by Dean Thomas, a muggleborn, and he preferred the muggle way. He found it calmed his nerves.

"Have any extra?" asked someone on the wall nearby him.

Ron turned to his right and found none other than Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall next to him. Malfoy was wearing muggle clothes; jeans and a shirt. He, apparently, did not find the early spring chill an obstacle, seeing as he was only wearing along-sleeve, black shirt. Ron pulled back, and quickly whipped out his wand, mostly out of fright, but also immense curiosity. What was Draco doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be in Azkaban or dead, like all the other death eaters?

"You're wondering why I'm here. Before you ask I'll answer. Then you'll give me a cig. I haven't had a smoke in a while, it's killing me," Malfoy smirked. Ron stood still, wand still pointed and he continued, "I killed Crabbe. Got thrown out of the ranks. I was put in prison with Granger. She managed to escape and took me with her to the hospital. I was there at the same time as you. I met Lupin. He advised me to come here. I'll be staying in Neville's room."

Ron reached for his pocket and took out a second cigarette. He didn't feel the need to obtain authentication of the story. He knew it was true. They smoked in silence. Both boys staring straight ahead into the clouded emptiness of the darkening street.

Darkening street? It was only three in the afternoon! Why should the street be getting dark? Ron looked at Malfoy. He didn't seem to notice anything odd. He was just leaning, staring, off into the space in front of him, completely contained in his own world. The street disappeared altogether instantaneously. Something was in front of Ron's eyes. Someone was tying a string behind his head, blind folding him. His arms were being held behind his back.

"Malfoy! Anyone! Help!" he tried to scream. As he opened his mouth, cloth was shoved in almost gagging him. The fabric was wet, soaked in some liquid. It felt too smooth to be water. Ron was unable to formulate the thought poison before he passed out from an unprecedented level of absolute exhaustion


	16. Playing House

Chapter 16 Playing House

"Hello, Draco."

"Pleased to see you here, Professor. Will you walk me in?" Draco asked casually. He looked as if he'd been standing outside the building for a while. He had the stub of a cigarette in his hand and his eyes were almost closed.

'Why is the boy so exhausted?' asked Remus to himself silently.

"I suppose you could come with me, seeing as I'm stopping by," Lupin answered, smiling.

"Fine, then."

Lupin produced a key from his pocket and fit it into the keyhole. "After you, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco stopped mid-step and turned on his heel, his eyes flashed dangerous black, "Please don't call me that."

"What?" asked Lupin, perplexed and a little frightened.

"Mr. Malfoy is my father. I prefer Draco, or Mr. Black." He answered evenly, still giving no explanation for this very unusual request.

Lupin did not require an explanation to say "Of course, I presume your mother's maiden name is Black?"

"Yes," Draco replied, leading the way up the stairs and stopping short at intervals to be pointed in the right direction by Lupin. "Here we are, Professor, my humble abode." Draco muttered _Alohamora _under his breath and opened the door. Lupin chose to take no note of this comment and followed suit as Draco entered.

"Harry! Hermione! Ginny! Ron! Neville!" Lupin called out from the miniature entrance hall. Ginny and Hermione left their bedrooms to greet him amiably.

"Ginny, I'm sure you've met Draco. He was a slytherin, the year above you," Lupin introduced, filling in the odd silence that had momentarily descended.

Ginny awkwardly stuck out her hand to be shaken by Draco. "Pleased to meet you. I believe I've seen you at school."

"Plesure's mine, Ms. Weasly, Ms. Granger," Draco replied, extending his hand to an unintroduced Hermione without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Lupin was immensely impressed.

"Come sit down, Mr. Malfoy, Professor Lupin. I'll make tea and we have pound cake somewhere… I think, " Ginny moved quickly into the kitchen. Lupin could tell that this was her new haven, where she felt most comfortable. She was taking to playing housewife, if only until she repossessed her bearings and sharp wit. She returned to her guests. "No pound cake, just tea then. Everybody wants tea? Good. So, Mr. Malfoy, what are you up to since school?" Ginny had been speaking rapidly, without leaving room for interruptions and now both she and Hermione looked at Draco expectantly.

"Please don't call me that." Once again, Draco's eyes flashed black, but stayed that way for much longer. It was a bit nerve wracking. Remus made a mental note to look into why that was happening.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, "Have we offended you in some way? Are you not the very Draco Malfoy from my year in school. I believe I had potions with you first through sixth year. Correct?"

"I am not the very same. I have changed my name since sixth year at school. As a legal adult, I am now Draco M. Black. If you must call me by my last name it would be Mr. Black."

"Are you not fond of the memories the name MALFOY evokes? Would you prefer to forget the past? So would I! We can't!" Harry had come out of the bedroom to find his best friend, mentor, girlfriend, and archenemy in his kitchen. His eyes were opened and the effect was frightening.

"Not fond of it, no, I'm not. Would you be pleased if we called you…Dursley? They _are _your adoptive parents," Draco countered, "You're family. They _did _raise you."

"How do _YOU_ know about the Dursleys! They didn't raise me! I don't follow their ways and I'm proud of it! It's not a parallel. The situations are completely different! The Dursley name has also never been used as a _threat_!" Harry bellowed. He had obviously foregone any façade calm upon seeing Draco in the apartment.

"Ehhem," Lupin cleared his throat in such a very Umbridge –like manner that they all silenced and turned to face him, "Before you get any nastier in the presence of a teacher, the reason Mr. Black – "

"Please don't call Draco that," Harry interjected.

"He can call me anything he fucking wants!" shouted Draco, "except Malfoy, that is," he mumbled.

"The only Mr. Black I ever knew was Sirius and I would prefer to _not_ get acquainted with another Black so soon. Do you mind?"

"I get it," replied Draco, calm once more, "but I don't have a surname in that case."

"Hem, hem," started Lupin again, " The reason Draco dropped by today was so I could introduce him thoroughly. He will be staying here with all of you for the time being. " Seeing all the wide open mouths, and the objections they contained, Lupin continued hurriedly, "No questions, no complaints. Draco will sleep in the extra bed in Neville's room. Clothes have been brought and transported there for his convenience. I trust him completely and I expect you to trust him and treat him as one of you. Good day."

With that, not unlike Dumbledore, Lupin flicked his wand towards Neville's room, turned on his heel, and vanished with the swish of a cloak.


	17. Malfoy

… a blond figure was descending onto Harry… the hair… platinum…so familiar… Harry lay happily on his bed, awaiting this person… closer, closer… the eyes, blue and black at once… hot breath on Harry's face… a kiss…

Harry jolted awake and sat straight up in bed, consequently knocking his head very hard against the lowest shelf on his wall over his bed. 'OW! What was the dream? Just a dream, just a dream.' He thought to himself without saying a word out loud for fear of waking someone up. He was shivering and sweating. He felt as if he had just run a mile with a high fever in the rain. His head was burning, his scar twanged, his arms and legs were tingling. Harry's throat was so dry. He needed water. Harry got out of bed and pulled on boxers. He walked quickly, eyes opened to the cupboard and reached for a glass.

"Good evening," someone said behind him.

Harry jumped, the glass he was holding fell to the ground and shattered into a million pieces, "Malf - Draco, what are you doing up?"

Draco was reclining with his hands up on the back of his neck. He looked comfortable sitting on the couch, as if it was natural for him to be living with his least favorite people in world, and be awake at four in the morning, conversing with his archenemy. A cup of coffee rested on the table in front of him. The lights were out, but Draco didn't look as if he'd been sleeping. He had changed so much since Harry had last encountered him at school.

Draco's eyes were rimmed with red to form what looked to be a combination of exhaustion and an unknown sadness. 'Being on the run alters ones appearance,' Harry thought to himself, forcibly reminded once again of a different Mr. Black he had known.

Harry was unable to even guess at this strange boy's thoughts. He could only notice the dark shadows under his eyes. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought this change signified some sort of difference in character. But this was Draco. Not some poor decrepit invalid that had come for health and good counsel.

His clothes were old and worn and it looked as if he had lost considerable weight. Draco was wirier and wearier than Harry had ever seen him. But his face showed no sign of recognizing his body's flight. 'We'll nurse you back to health,' Harry found himself thinking, 'I can get you back on the right track.'

"I don't sleep," replied Draco, in answer to Harry's question. He muttered under his breath and the glass under Harry's feet collected itself and filled with water. His face stayed practically expressionless. Like he was in a play that had been rehearsed to many times in one sitting.

"I couldn't sleep either," responded Harry, taking the levitating glass and swallowing the contents whole, "I think I have a fever. I feel sick."

"Maybe that's cause your in such close proximity to me. Or was Ronnie boy scaring you," mocked Draco, sounding much more like his old self than he had all day.

"Eat dung, _Malfoy_," Harry half-shouted, half-whispered.

"I'm just kidding, my little fucking flying fairy. I know your dreams can be pretty serious and important blah blah blah," Draco answered, ignoring Harry's jab at his former surname, "Come here and I'll take your temperature."

"Fuck you, Draco," Harry sat down in any case.

"Put this in your mouth," Draco instructed, offering Harry his wand tip.

"Why? Your aim got so bad, you need me to hold the wand for you while you kill me?"

"To take your temperature, my little ballerina."

"Oh," Harry complied and opened his mouth.

"Now take it out," Draco said after about a minute.

Harry looked confused so Draco put one hand on Harry's face and pulled out the wand with his other hand. Harry felt a bolt of lightening go through him from his mouth to his toes and back up to his head. 'It must be combination of fever and Death Eater combined,' he concluded. Draco didn't seem to feel the need the to ask questions. For that, Harry was glad.

" You're fine. I know what type of dream you had. They're hot, but not fever inducing," Draco smirked.

"Shut up."

"Now you and Ron go have fun. Scat!" Draco… teased? Without malice? Impossible!

"RON!"

"Yes, that's his name. Good job."

"No, Ron's not in his bed. I haven't seen him since the fight we had this morning," Harry exclaimed wildly, in a state of panic. Draco didn't move.

"I saw him this afternoon, before I came here. He was outside. He offered me a cigarette and then…" Draco stopped abruptly and a fleeting look of panic crossed his face before he placed his wand to his head, on the other side, so Harry couldn't see. He tapped it a few times distractedly before jumping up and crying, "I gotta go, Harry. I'll see you in the morning." Draco stood up and threw on the leather jacket lying next to him on the couch.

"Wait, I'm coming with you! Since when does Ron smoke? That doesn't matter. Where is he? We need to find him!" Harry stood up, suddenly very conscious of his own lack of clothing. The draft in the room gave his naked skin goose bumps. Walking around in his boxers now felt like an idiotic idea.

"I am going to find him, _Potter_," spat Draco, but then, after a moment of reflection he concluded, "Always the hero, aren't we Potter. Fine. Come with me. Go get dressed. We have to hurry."

"Wait, what? Where are we going?" asked Harry, forever needing answers.

"Now isn't the time for questions. I said grab some pants and a shirt. We need to _leave_."

"Where?" asked Harry, unable to process this information quickly due to lack of sleep.

"I'll tell you as we go. Drink some of this, you look like you'll need it." Draco motioned to the mug on the table. "Sleeplessness potion, keeps you awake. You need to stay up. We have a long night ahead of us." Harry never had time to wonder _why_ Draco might stay up all night nursing such a potion.


	18. Candy and Strangers

Part 4 Chapter 18 Candy and Strangers

Ron awoke. He was in a tornado, or maybe a magically revolving room. Ron wasn't sure, he didn't really care all that much either. He just wanted to get out. Ron tried to stand but realized his arms were tied down to the revolving bed. A man entered the room. He was wearing a heavy black cloak and, unlike the room's other inhabitance, was staying perfectly still. Upon the man's arrival, the room ceased it's spinning. Ron steadied himself.

"Wormtail!" The voice called with a commanding air. It was an octave or two higher than Ron had expected, but still definitely a man's voice.

A much more refined looking Wormtail than Ron had previously been acquainted with came out from behind the man. He too was robed in black, but without a hood. His hair, now cut short, was still visible. He was cleaner, his face washed and his teeth brushed, but his stutter was still apparent and Ron was repulsed.

"Yes, M-Master?" asked Wormtail.

"I'll leave you two boys alone," the man said with… a bit of a smirk in his tone? Was he really enjoying this so thoroughly? Wormtail wore a greedy look in his eyes.

"I thought you were finally dead, Wormtail," Ron spat, when the man had left the room.

"People have thought that before too," snickered the disgusting man, now fiddling with his silver arm, "_Occaere_!" he whispered, looking intently at his hand. A band of silver unwound itself from the unnatural extremity and twisted in the air until it became a blindfold. "_Polculum! Potare!_" He muttered again. Ron couldn't no longer see what was happening because the blind fold had tied itself around his eyes and refused to be removed, even with the highest possible levels of physical restraint. Ron felt hot liquid slide down his throat. He tried to close his mouth and disallow the action to continue, but his mouth too, would not obey any mental command.

The liquid was hot and spicy, like cinnamon and sugar and hot peppers mixed together. It made his body tingle for a moment before relaxing into his blood stream where Ron hoped, uselessly, he knew, that it would cause no lasting damage, "What is that?"

"Like I'd tell you if I knew."

Ron came to terms with the point being moot as he heard Wormtail leave the room. What was Wormtail doing here anyway? Hadn't he been killed? And why did RON have to be the one taken captive? This was so frustrating! This whole villain-hero scenario was supposed to be over!

"This place looks so familiar…" a voice said outside the castle very dimly.

"Shut up, Harry," a second dim voice responded, "I'm trying to remember how to get in."

So someone had come to save him. Ron wasn't surprised, but he was pleased nonetheless. Harry had come with… whoever that second person was. The second voice was so familiar but Ron couldn't quite place it. Neville? No, Neville had gone haywire after the last attack, killing the Dark Lord wasn't something one could do without lasting mental damage. The only thing _he _seemed capable of doing these days was diagnosing unheard of potions. Perhaps Lupin, then? Yes, it had to be Lupin who had come to escort Harry on his adventure to save Ron. Ron smiled and tried to go to sleep.


	19. The Adventurers

Chapter 19 The Adventurers

"Okay, I think you can go around and there'll be a window that they used to keep open. I'll go in. You stay here and don't get yourself hurt," Draco instructed as he began to walk away.

"Wait, what?" Harry interjected confusedly.

"You're not thinking straight. He's your best friend and you didn't even notice he was gone. There's something you need to think over and come to a conclusion about. I don't know what it is but I could tell from the look on your face. Besides, you could get lost. I know my way around in there," Draco countered. Harry loved how simple and clear his statements were. It was so much easier than talking to Ron and Hermione. They were always hiding something or other.

"Yeah but, Malf – Black – Draco, he won't trust you. You haven't exactly earned our trust, no offense," Harry replied, as nicely as he could.

"That's true…" Draco was silent for a moment as he thought, "Alright, follow me and be quiet."

The two boys crept silently forward, flat against the wall. Harry copied Draco's every movement. He didn't want to mess up and he had a suspicion that Draco's odd occasional twitching movements were actually helping them dodge some sort of invisible floating traps. After about twenty minutes, they reached a gothic style window. "Fuck," Draco whispered. Harry looked at the window expectantly, wondering if that was the password. Seeing that the window did not change Harry realized this was not a password but an exclamation of frustration.

"What?" He asked, "We found the window."

"Can't you feel it?"

"No. What, Draco?"

"Fucking widow's enchanted. Shit. Only one of us can get through. I know the way but I'll do no good if he won't come with me."

"So, tell me the way. I'm not stupid."

"See that's just not true, you're pretty dumb, Potter. In any case… you need this on your arm to get through the doors," Draco pulled back the left sleeve of robe. His wrist was scarred. Harry could see horizontal lines to Draco's elbow and little hearts carved in here and there. In the middle of this horrifying mess was faintly glowing Dark Mark that looked like it had recently scabbed over. Harry tried not to gasp.

"Aha! I knew it! This was a trap! Ron's not actually in there, is he?" Harry shouted, ignoring the other marks on Draco's hand and singling out the one Mark.

"You didn't know I was once a Death Eater? Were you not there that night at Hogwarts? I'm not now. This isn't the time. Trust me," was all Draco had to say and then instructed Harry, "find a stick on the ground or something. I need something sharp."

"Um, A) I don't think I want you near any sharp objects and B) what about getting to Ron? Oh, and C) why?"

"You need to be a Death Eater, to get in, dumbwit. Find a stick, please," Draco stopped talking as he watched Harry search the ground momentarily until he resurfaced, twig in hand. Harry still didn't understand, but then again, he didn't understand much recently, "That'll be fine. Pass it." Harry handed it to Draco, "_SHERAC,_" Draco whispered to the twig, causing it to grow a much sharper edge. Draco pulled down his left sleeve and pulled up his right one. He drew a vertical line across it. Silently, he took Harry's right arm, and did the same to him. Harry focused all his energy on gnashing his teeth together, so as not to make any noise. The boys pressed their wrists together and let the blood flow freely between them for a moment before simultaneously whispering different healing spells.

"Okay, now go!" Draco whispered to Harry, giving a hand into the first floor window.


	20. Run

Chapter 20 Run

'Draco forgot to tell me where to go. Great,' thought Harry, stepping through the window, "Drac-" Harry began but the window had already sealed itself shut.

'Shit,' Harry looked down. He was standing on a desk in a study. Instead of books the shelves were lined with bubbling, brewing and steaming test tubes of various shades, colors and potions. 'So this must be a study or… or it used top be a study but now it's… a lab?'

Slowly, Harry climbed down, making sure nothing shattered. 'Think, Harry, think. Okay, leave this room and try to find your way around. You've been in trickier situations than this. You can get out of,' he instructed himself. Carefully, he tip-toed out and intent on looking solely at the door frame, leaned against the wall.

CRASH! BANG! CRASH CRASH!

Harry had managed to push over an entire shelf of potions, causing a domino effect throughout the room. Harry didn't have time to think about this before he started running randomly in no particular direction. Instinct guided him away from the mess, without any regard for directionality. He could hear the whirring of lights above him and an alarm going off in the distance. Suits of armor leaning idly against the walls jumped to life and began to run after Harry as he ran faster and faster. Left right, up a flight, turn, turn, turn left, up a flight, right again; Harry ran for his life. He felt as if his feet were acting of their own accord. He didn't know where he was going or what would happen if he stopped.

The suits were running faster too. Harry didn't need to look behind him to know this. Their armor was clanking horribly. Harry hoped they would fall apart from disuse and age. His heart was pounding in his head and he could here the blood rushing into his throat. 'I can't run… much longer…' he thought to himself.

He was running down a hallway, two or three floors above the ground floor, where he had entered. The walls held elaborate paintings of blond haired families, sitting comfortably on plush couches, and blond men killing savage beasts in forest clearings with wands and swords. As Harry ran he began to notice portraits of blond children. They were all in their separate frames. Not one of them bothered acknowledging the scene unfolding below them. They all just sat staring, occasionally squirming slightly or scowling. All the portraits looked very familiar, but Harry couldn't quite them. Who were these people?

Harry stopped abruptly, momentarily startling the suits of armor. The very last portrait was the person from his dream. Harry stared. The suits began quietly advancing, but Harry neither noticed or cared. The first suit, clanging along as discreetly as possible, wrapped it's metal fingers around Harry's neck, and the second suit of armor grabbed his hands and twisted them behind his back roughly.

"NOOO! GET OFF!" Harry screamed ineffectually, only now remembering their existence.

He needed to get Ron.

Harry could feel the blood pulsing through his veins.

Blood running through his body…

Blood beating the back of his eyes…

Eyes burning… Glowing…

Blood burning… So bright, green light…

'Ron. Ron. Ron,' Harry thought to himself, that name beating almost as hard as his blood, a mantra rushing through his body. He couldn't lose Ron now. Not after all they had been through.

For a moment, Harry thought he had rendered himself blind, but realized he had just blown all the lights in the house. In fact, maybe he had blown out the suits of armor too. He could feel the grip of both suits loosen, and heard the sound as metal banged against the wood floors.


	21. Small World

Chapter 21 Small World

"You brought him here so quickly. You are proving yourself worthy," the hooded figure told the boy.

He was back to the fire. He wished he could stop these… meetings but he knew it was impossible. His new master had power over him and he knew there was nothing to be done about it. He was a pawn, once again, in some bigger game that would not care for him until he messed up their plans. Then they would kill him.

"What did you do to him? I saw you give him no potion that would make him do as you say. I am curious to know how the deed was done."

The boy thought hard, he hadn't really had to do anything, "He just trusted me."

"TRUSTED YOU! Trust!" the figure bellowed, voice rising an octave or two. The boy saw the image waver, as it if were about to disappear, but only for a moment. He suddenly felt excruciating pain. It was if every part of his body was being ripped apart from one another and put back together. The hooded man had placed him the fire, "Have I taught you nothing? When was trust something to count on? ALL people lie. He could know your plan! You may have already ruined everything! I told you, I would protect you IF YOU DID AS I SAY! Naive, ignorant boy."

The man's screaming became wordless now. The cold was ripping him apart, it was between the molecules of his being. It became one with the man's scream. The boy thought it would never stop or start. Time was over. The screaming and pain would exist forever. Tears streamed down his face and pain poured through his mouth.

All of a sudden, it stopped. The figure and the fire had disappeared. The boy opened his eyes. He was still on hard, dirt ground, but he could see tufts of grass. A warm breeze swirled around his head. It ruffled his hair and cooled his sweating forehead. The boy sighed and rolled over so he faced the endless sky above him.

He would figure this out. He didn't need anymore 'protection'. He just needed to get this out of the way. He needed to make this strange and terrifying person disappear. He would live animosity, once this was all over. He could be safe without any help. He was tired of trying to stay alive this way and he knew it probably wouldn't last much longer.


	22. Rescue

Chapter 22 Rescue

Harry leaned hard against the portrait, which, very oddly, had ceased to move altogether. Harry didn't have time to ponder this strange occurrence because, as soon as he pressed he finger tips against the portrait, it transformed into a door. Harry opened the door and walked in with his wand in hand.

The room was dark. He could only just make out a figure on a bed. Alarms in Harry's head went off, but he paid them none of their deserved heed. He knew he ought to know better but… "_LUMOS!_" he whispered.

Black cloth covered the shock of red hair and a face. Was it Ron? The hair sure looked the same. What would any other Weasley be doing here? It had to be Ron. Whoever it was, they were definitely alive. Harry knew that much. He could see the rise and fall of this boy's stomach. It almost looked though, as if he was struggling against something in his sleep. He was spread eagled on the bed and, Harry realize, both his arms and legs were tied to the bedposts.

"_SCIO! SCIO! SCIO!_" Harry muttered, watching as each rope in turn recoiled from the body. Harry sat down on the bed. "Ron? Is that you?" he asked, shaking the person softly from side to side. He was sure this was a very vulnerable position to be in. There were so many ways someone could kill him at the moment.

The person stirred, "Harry? I knew you'd come!" Ron sat up in bed and Harry recognized that the headband was in actuality a blind-fold.

"Turn around, let me help you with the blind-fold," Harry offered, confused as to why Ron didn't try to take it off himself.

"You can't," Ron answered, unhappily, "It won't come." But Ron complied anyway and turned. Harry was able to untie without much difficulty or effort. Ron turned back to look at Harry and his eyes lit up. He hugged Harry.

"Uhh… thanks Ron. Nice to see you too," Harry was a bit surprised, but then again, Ron had just been in captivity for a few hours. Harry was puzzled, but couldn't continue thinking about it because he needed to focus on the situation at hand.

Harry stood up. If nothing had changed since he had entered the room, maybe he could out the same way he had gotten in. Harry pushed hard on the door. It didn't budge. Apparently, things had changed because it was locked. "_ALOHOMORA!_" he recited half-heartedly, knowing it wouldn't work. 'Okay, another way out…'

Harry scanned the room. It was completely bare except for the bed on which Ron was sitting. There was the bed and a window. A window! How stupid could he have been to not see it before! But they were on the … fourth floor, Harry calculated. Well, he'd have to figure out a spell. 'Think! Harry, think!' he instructed.

Before Harry had any time to do any such thing, another person entered the room, through the very door Harry couldn't open. Wormtail entered, smiling. His silver hand pointed at Harry, "_AVADA KED-!_"

Harry didn't give him a chance to finish that thought. He grabbed Ron and jumped through the stained glass window. He would think about the glass and their landing as they fell. Now, he just needed to save Ron's life, and his own…


	23. Flight

Chapter 23 Land

The shadow of a lone figure stood out against the moonlit battlements of the west tower. The figure looked up and pointed it's wand at two objects, not clearly visible, suspended in mid-air on top of the east tower across the valley. If one looked closely, and squinted a bit, and turned a little to the left, they might have been able to see two intense, tiny, green specks on one of the oddly shaped objects.

The lone finger whispered something to himself and the two objects in the distance rose a bit higher in the air and soared towards him. Once they landed, one could see that it was two boys falling from the sky. A dark-haired boy and a red-head, panting slightly, had just landed.

"Draco?" Harry inquired, amazed that he was still alive.

Ron stayed silent, thinking intently, apparently absolutely unaware of his surroundings or Draco.

"Yeah," Draco looked up from the ground to meet Harry's eyes.

"Thanks," Harry said. Gratified, he smiled. Draco Black just saved his life. Could he now be considered a friend? Harry would never have been friends with a Malfoy, but a Black… Yes, Draco Black could be considered a friend of Harry Potter… He had saved Harry's life tonight and Ron's…

Harry looked up at Draco's staring blue eyes. Draco looked a little odd. He seemed a bit paler and his face looked a bit more strained. Maybe it was just the light and the time of day. It was probably early morning now. Harry could see the sky beginning to lighten.

"Harry," Ron whispered in his ear, "You saved my life…"

Harry jumped. Ron sounded… almost as if he was trying to be… seductive? He couldn't have changed so much. He was just tired, probably very confused.

"Don't mention it," Harry relied awkwardly, while pulling away from Ron as far as possible without seeming rude, "`Shall we get going now?"

"Yes, let's," replied Draco, apparently quite keen on getting out of this situation, "_ACCIO _BROOMS!"

Two brooms flew through the air towards Harry and Draco. Harry realized that he would be forced to share a broom with Ron. "Draco, come over here," Harry whispered, trying to make sure Ron didn't hear, which wasn't that hard, because Ron, at the moment, was sitting against the wall, imagining something rather grotesque and groaning a little.

"Draco, I can't ride a broom with Ron. He's acting strange to me, he doesn't seem to notice you though."

"I – I …" Harry felt awful and he could almost see the inner turmoil Draco was experiencing, "Alright! Ron!" he shouted to Ron as Ron looked up, "On my broom, Ron! Now!"

Ron looked shocked, "Draco! Draco Malfoy! You! You put me through this! You didn't help me when I needed it!" he sounded infuriated, just noticing Draco, "I want Harry! Not you…" He said I bit quieter.

"What's he talking about, Black?" asked Harry curiously.

Draco's face showed no definable expression, "Not sure, I think he's delusional." Before Harry could object, Draco stunned Ron and attached him with a sticking charm to his broom and shoulders.


End file.
